No Rest for the Wicca (21 page)

“Who are you?” she whispered.

The figure murmured some words in an intelligible dialect Margit had never heard. Latin? No, not that. She wasn’t sure. She struggled against the leather, only served to make her limbs ache more. “Let me go,” she hissed.

The figure bowed its head and melted back into the shadows.

She whipsawed her head around, and her eyes widened as she caught sight of
another figure entering the chamber.
He wore a long black robe
with a hood pulled low to mask his face
, and he carried a small silver bowl in one hand, a thick black candle in the other. He set the bowl underneath her chin, the candle between her thighs. Embarrassed, she twisted her head away.

“Don’t be shy, my dear,”
the figure murmured.  The voice was low, guttural, and yet Margit felt she’d heard it somewhere before.
“Your body holds no sexual excitement for me
,” he continued. “
No, anything I feel is of a different nature. Much different.”

He
placed his hand on her
leg
.
“You are about to become part of a wondrous ritual—a ritual that will
honor our Supreme goddess and
free the Great One, and rain blessings upon those who follow him. Your part is very important, my dear. Look upon this as a sort of…reward.” H
e bent low, and whispered in her ear, “You sent those little clues to the Special Forces, we know that.  I imagine you thought yourself very clever, using your aunt’s access code.”

She gritted her teeth. “
Who are you?  Graft?  Morrow? 
I know more than you think. I know
all about your little club that honors the black lwa.  You’re making a big mistake.  If you free me, I—I can help you.”

“Too late for that, I’m afraid.”
He stepped back, withdrew an ivory-handled athame from the folds of his robe. It glinted in the flickering light of the candles.
He held the knife poised over her chest.
“There is a way you can be free.”

“What?” she cried. “Tell me. I’ll do anything.”

His hand caressed her cheek again. “First, you must never speak of what has transpired here.”

She swallowed, nodded. “No. Never.”

“Second—you must turn the book over to us.”

“Book?” Her eyes clouded, then suddenly brightened. “My book of spells? It’s in my locker at school. It’s yours,” she rasped. “Take the damn thing.”

The hooded figure shook his head.
“Not your book. You took a similar one from Florrie’s room, did you not?”

Fear flickered for a moment in her eyes, and she twisted her face away from his. “I—no. I don’t know what you mean.”

He grabbed her chin, turned her back to face him. He held the knife just under her throat. “You know full well what I mean. You saw that woman give Florrie the book that day, and you recognized it, because you’d seen a picture of it in the notes your aunt had taken home to transcribe. You recognized it—you knew its rarity, the fact it’s one of only three copies in existence. What’s more, you knew what it contained.”

He pressed the knife harder against her flesh. Breath wheezed out of her. “S—spells. Ancient spells. Dangerous ones.”

His lips curved upward. “Indeed. Master them, and you would be one powerful witch, wouldn’t you? A force to be reckoned with. You recognized its worth, and you took it from Florrie.”

“No.” She twisted her head back.
He
removed the knife, and a feeling of relief surged through her. She met his gaze. “I did see her give Florrie the book. She told her you wanted it, you needed it to research some ancient spells for your paper. It’s true, I did break into their room. I knew Florrie always kept her valuables either under her mattress or in the cedar box in her closet, but—the book wasn’t’ there. I didn’t find it.”

He
twirled the knife in his hand so the point of the blade rested against his chin. “You don’t have it, then?” he murmured.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.
She probably
gave it to that insipid roommate of hers for safekeeping,” Margit burst out. “Dru probably has it. Hell, she probably knows what’s in it too. If Florrie figured it out, she’d have told her. She confided everything in her. Spare me, and I’ll—I’ll get it for you.”

She turned her head as a flash of movement alerted her, and her eyes widened as another robed figure emerged from the shadows
, hood pulled low over its head as well.

“A pity,” the newcomer intoned. “The book might have saved you, but now…
it’s your misfortune to have the blood, my dear.  Or the good fortune, depending on how one looks at it.
”

The second figure moved around to the other side of Dorrie, and pulled a silver knife from beneath his robe. 
He pointed the sharp blade at her throat. “
Too much time has been wasted. 
Now, we will begin.”

I lay on the bed in the dark, listening to Cole’s even breathing, and sighed. What could I say now? I’d just done something totally inappropriate.

Yet, I’d never enjoyed anything more in my entire life.

I propped myself on one elbow and looked at the man slumbering beside me.  I reached out, traced the outline of his jaw with my fingertip. I’d often wondered how my first time would be—wondered just sort of man it would be I’d give myself up to. I never, in a thousand lifetimes, would have expected it would be a dark, brooding Inheritor vampire with a tongue almost as sharp as my own. Well, now I could definitely agree with those who’d said sex with an Inheritor was an unforgettable experience…except for the fact I’d now created a potentially awkward situation. Once again, I’d blundered in, eyes wide open. And, as per usual, I’d have to suffer the inevitable consequences.

I slid off the platform bed, moved slowly through the darkened room. I was hesitant to put on any lights, to waken him.
Just grab my clothes, get dressed and get out.
That’s it. I’ll face him later.

“What are you doing?”

My head snapped up. Cole towered over me, completely naked. I managed to drag my gaze away from his magnificent body and ease a hip onto one corner of the bed, sheet wrapped tightly around me.

“I was—I was looking for my clothes.”

One eyebrow went up. “What for? It’s early yet.”

“I know, but…I should leave.”

Something flashed in those black eyes. Hurt? “Why? In a few hours we’ll have to report for work. You might as well stay, get a good rest.”

I tugged at a stray ebony strand. “I can’t go to class in the same clothes I wore yesterday,” I stammered. “It—it won’t look right.”

“Do you really think anyone will notice?”

I turned my head, ran my finger along the edge of the sheet. “Cole, most of the students are girls. Believe me, they’ll notice.”

He folded his arms across his broad chest. “Far be it from me to offend your sensibilities. We’ll stop by your house so you can change.”

“But Xia—“

He pressed one long finger against my lips. “I rather think your cousin would applaud what we did here last night. She strikes me as a very modern, very broad-minded girl.”

I pulled the sheet more tightly around myself. “She is, but—not as broad minded as one might think.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Has she something against vampires?”

“Not that I know of.” My tongue darted out, wiped a bead of sweat from my upper lip. “But I doubt even she’d approve of this.”

One eyebrow arched. “Of our making love?”

“Of my having sex with a co-worker.”

“Ah.” He eased himself on the bed next to me, turned my face up to his. “And there we have it in a nutshell, don’t we. It’s not Xia’s opinion you’re worried about—it’s your own feelings of impropriety.”

I tried to jerk away from him, but he held my chin cupped in his palm. “You know as well as I,” I ground out, “something like this between two people working closely together—well, it can get sticky.”

“Yes, it can. But we won’t let it. We’re professionals.”

“How can you be so sure? How can you know something won’t happen to set us at odds?”

He laughed. “My dear Morgan, we’ve been at odds since we first laid eyes on each other. Nothing in that respect has changed.”

“But our relationship has changed, and you know it.” I squirmed in his grasp. He released his hold on my chin, but linked his fingers with mine. “I-I don’t have sex with co-workers.”

“If we’re being honest, you’ve never had sex with anyone,” he said softly. “Last night was your first time.”

I lowered my gaze. “All the more reason why this is a bad idea.”

“I see.” He lifted his hands, palms outward. “I don’t want to fight with you over this.”

“Good. Then we understand each other.”

I started to gather the sheet around me, and Cole suddenly sprang upward, grabbed me and yanked me back upon the bed. I clawed, I nipped, I pounded against his chest, all to no avail as I found myself pinned under his weight.

“I don’t think you understand at all, Morgan,” He said. “When we made love last night, I considered it a rather profound experience. I rather hoped you regarded it in the same way.”

“It’s hard for me to know what to feel,” I rasped, “seeing as I’d never done this before.”

He put his hand across my mouth. “First off, there is a vast difference between just having sex and making love. If you were more experienced, you’d realize this.  Second, I’m not a man who takes liaisons lightly. I’ve not had feelings for women too often in my lifetime—least of all a Wiccan.”

“Half-Wiccan.”

“You are starting to sound like a broken record.” He rolled off my chest and I sat up. “You know in spite of yourself, you’re a fascinating woman, Morgan Hawkes.”

I stared at him. “I am?”

“Yes. You are. You with your guileless good looks, your cool green eyes, your impenetrable wall of resistance. I don’t really know why I am attracted to you, but I am. I’d like to see where it all leads. I don’t believe our working relationship will be compromised one teeny bit, but if you feel uneasy about it—say the word, and I’ll withdraw from the case.”

My eyes widened. “You wouldn’t?”

His black eyes were intense. “I would, if this upsets you so much. It’s your call.”

I scowled. “Damn you, Cole, just when I’m trying so very hard to hate you, you turn all noble on me. It’s just not fair.”

He chucked his finger under my chin. “I’ll take that as a no.”

I toyed absently with an errant strand of hair. “I can’t lay all the blame on you. What happened was partly my fault.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I’d say the two of us were pretty heavily involved.”

I swatted at his shoulder with one hand. “You know what I mean. I got a little—upset last night. I acted vulnerable. We—I got caught up in the moment. I could have stopped you—“

He held up his hand. “Morgan, trust me, you couldn’t have stopped me, once we began. As much as you’d like to blame yourself, my dear, both of us were fully cognizant and responsible for our actions. Actions I do not regret for one instant.” He stopped, took my face in his hands. “Do you?”

“Honestly?” I took a deep breath, ran my hands up his arms, rested them on his broad shoulders. “No. Heaven help me, no I don’t.”

“Darling,” he whispered as he pressed me back against the soft pillows. “I rather hoped you’d say that.”

I stood in Cole’s bathtub that was more the size of a small pond and let my body be pummeled by the hot pulse of the shower spray.  Why not, I asked myself. It’s only appropriate. Last night Cole pummeled me, my senses. Invaded a part of me I thought no man could ever get near. Yet, I felt no regret, none at all.

Dammit.
I want to regret it.
It was a mistake, a huge one.
I have to put it behind me, have to move on.

But
Corpus Christi
, I didn’t want to. How could anyone regret someone who made them feel so alive. It was funny, really. One of the undead made me feel more alive than I had in months.  I closed my eyes and immediately my senses were assaulted by a vision of a man, splendid in his nakedness, dark hair streaming across his shoulders, eyes blacker than night, his exquisitely sculpted hands roaming every inch of my body…

I jumped as hard lips clamped down on mine and I opened my eyes to see the man himself, body glistening wet, right next to me.

“Cole,” I gasped. “What are you doing in my shower?”

“To be technical,” he grinned, “it’s my shower. I missed you.”

He bent his head and his teeth grazed my lip, as his hands roamed over my full breasts. He tugged lightly at my soap-slicked nipples. “And I do believe you missed me too.”

Why did my body have to be so damn treacherous? “Don’t flatter yourself,” I murmured. I put both hands on his chest and pushed away from him. “It was all a mistake, a damn mistake. I have to go.”

“No.” He reached out, cupped my hips, lifted me back to him. “No, you don’t.”

“See. This is what I mean. Today’s the day, Cole. Today’s the day another witch is supposed to be killed, and what are we doing?”

“Psyching ourselves up? Getting mentally fit?”

I snorted. “Is that what you call it?”

He shifted and in one fluid movement had me against the shower wall. “I’ll tell you what I don’t call it. I don’t call it a mistake.”

“You don’t?” I felt temper rise. “How about we call it your taking advantage of me at a weak moment. Because when you think about it, that is what happened, isn’t it, Cole?”

There came the flash of red again, simmering just below the black. I knew I should shut my mouth, but I just couldn’t’ seem to help myself.

“I guess I seemed an easy conquest for you, eh? The dashing Cole St. John. Do you bed all your partners? Or was a virgin too much of a challenge to resist?”

Now the center of his eyes was red, a hot, molten color. His lips peeled back from his gums, and I caught a glimpse of overlong, over sharp incisors. Ah, so the vamp in him came out when he got really angry—or turned on. And God help me, he still looked hot, even in this state…maybe even hotter yet.

“First off,” he rasped, “I haven’t had a partner in years. Secondly, if I were merely using you, even though you were a virgin, I wouldn’t have been as tender or considerate as I was.”

“Ah, so you would have used your glamour on me, wouldn’t you?”

He turned away, rested both hands on the shower wall, took a deep shuddering breath. When he turned back, his eyes were no longer red, his teeth no longer menacing. He raked one hand through his wet mass of hair.

“Inheritors don’t get the thirst often, but it’s not pretty when we do,” he said quietly. “One thing you should remember, Morgan. We walk among humans, live as humans, but we are not human. Our true nature is to be predator, killer. Some more than most.”

I felt a shudder rip through me. He sounded so cold, so calculating. “So, why are you telling me this? You’re not planning to do me in, are you?”

“I like to think because I have human blood, I’m better than most, but when you get right down to it, you can’t fight your heritage. You would do well to remember that.”

I stared at him. “I’m not a vampire.”

“No—you’re Half-Wiccan, as you constantly remind everyone. What about your other half?”

I looked away. “I try not to think about it.”

He cupped my chin, tilted my head to his. “I could never turn my back on my Inheritor heritage any more than you can on your Wiccan or voodoo roots.  I know when you strike out at me, you’re really doing so at yourself.”

“Damn mind-meld again,” I grumbled, and he actually laughed.

“I don’t need to delve into your thoughts to know you fight against your heritage every day—dammit, I think it’s something we have in common.”

My eyes widened. “You fight being an Inheritor?”

His lips took an upward curve. “Of course, every damn day of my life. It’s one reason I went into Special Forces.”

“So you think by fighting the bad guys, you won’t become one of them.”

“I don’t believe I am one of them. But make no mistake, I could be. Violence is an inherent part of me, it’s in me and something I can’t change. But I can better it.” His finger traced the outline of my lips. “Your father’s blood runs through you, but you fight it, too. You strive to be better. And, when you get right down to it, isn’t that all any of us can ask?”

“I suppose,” I murmured. “You know, I want to hate you, Cole, I really do, but there’s just something about you that makes it impossible.”

“Yeah? What?”

I dove for his mouth. “Your hot body,” I murmured, and let my lips close over his.

We showered and soaped, and he took me in the stall, had me quivering, mewling, crying out for release.  I licked soap off every inch of him, felt an immense sense of pleasure when I made him shudder and call out my name. We dried each other off and found our way back to his bed, where we lay, tangled in each other’s arms.

“You’re right,” I said, as I ran my fingers along his sinewy muscles. “I do fight against what I am, every day of my life. I am the very thing I accused you of being—cocky, too sure. Those qualities of mine are what killed an innocent.”

“Once again, your partner’s death wasn’t you—“ he began, but I put my finger against his lips.

“I know.  April had free will. She didn’t have to go along with my plan. But she trusted me, and she did, and now…I owe it to her memory, Cole, and to those dead witches whose spirits are trapped between planes. I owe it to them to find out who’s behind all this.”

The voices started all in a rush, threading through my stream of consciousness:

Seven.

The power of Seven

Seven points of release, and she will be free.